


Kumbaya

by Luukiead



Series: Impromptu People [1]
Category: Shingeki no Kyojin | Attack on Titan
Genre: Awful flirting, FIYAAH, Fire, M/M, achem, burning things yo, eheheheheh, im 'orrible, ive got three fics on the go and im doing this instead
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-11-02
Updated: 2014-11-02
Packaged: 2018-02-22 05:23:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,351
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/2496014
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Luukiead/pseuds/Luukiead
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Based on 'the fire alarm went off at 3 am and now the cute guy from the flat next door is standing next to me in his underwear' AU, brainerised by iggycat.</p><p>AKA: bare bodies, fire and early-morning sarcasm.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Kumbaya

 

 Toast.

God damn, mother fucking toast. That was it. The dick on the third floor had decided that he really needed a carbohydrate-riddled midnight snack—or, more specifically, a three in the morning fucked-up breakfast—and then fallen back to sleep, letting his stupid dinky flat fill with smoke and burn from the 80s kitchenette to the duckling bathroom suite.

So a toast to him. A toast to his… toast. Here’s to the man that woke up the entire apartment complex at three-oh-three in the morning.

Cheers, fucker.

 

If being woken up that early was headache worthy, the noise was worse. It pulsed just as his blood did, the early hours thickening it until it burnt heavy in his head and suddenly dropped; mind blackened, eyes unseeing beyond the fuzz and fuss. Someone down the hall screamed loudly, the next-door-neighbour to the right slamming the door just that bit too hard, jolting the row of dirty plates and mouldy cups leaning against the wall. Head rush, foot fall, people rush, blood rush, fall in pressure, high on heat-- Jean had no clue what the fuck was going on.

After his eyes adjusted from one darkness to another, the outline of the pile of clothes on the floor shifting between his gunky lashes, he realised.

Fire alarm, a proper one. The caretaker was grouchy yet diligent enough to pull them off at regular intervals, but this? This was different. This was real as hell and earlier than Jean would ever like to see himself being awake at without good reason. Then again, he supposed fire was enough of a cause to get him out of bed this early.

It was a flash decision to grab the blanket he had been wrapped in. The hand gripping the rough fabric curled up to his ear when he passed over the screaming alarm above the front door. Suddenly the little blue notice stuck next to the wooden frame made so much sense: head to the end of the hall, go down the fire escape, stand outside and freeze your ass off, sing campfire songs as your temporary home goes up in flames along with your cat, your favourite pair of shoes and your chance to sleep until two in the afternoon without interruption.

In Jean’s sleep riddled state, the smoke fanning along the ceiling looked less harmless than what it was. Lightly dusted around his head, it still was wooded and bitter and he could already tell that it would cling to the walls and leave everything smelling for months if nothing was done.

The mother and her two young children from down the hall squarked, pushing and shoving their way through the window and down onto the ladder where a man shouted "You got it lady!" over and over and over. The woman went last, looking up quickly to Jean and the man in the flat opposite his, who was hurriedly trying to lock his door as through a Yale key would ward off any potential flames chewing up the stairs and licking the walls.

"Get yourselves down here, quick!" she called, just as a loud  _pop_  and a scream made the man unlocking his door opposite Jean squeak and drop the key to the floor, following it down onto his hands and knees, almost bare ass sticking up in the air.

All Jean had to do was figure out if the gulp and the sudden realisation of  _is it hot in here or is it just me_  was due to the fact that he could see the air down the hallway turning like a mirage, or because this damn dude was wearing nothing but a pair of boxers, the dimples at the base of his spine peeking out from under a rather tight and reasonably pale fabric, dark skin painted in a light glow. He swallowed, blinking deeply and hoping that perhaps it was just a lapse in his concentration he tore himself away just as the other man stood up and watched Jean head to the window.

"You go ahead. I’ll follow you down."

Jean grabbed the window sill, stepping out with one leg. "Right," he muttered. The wind-chilled metal still managed to burn through the pant leg of his makeshift pyjamas, a pair of baggy grey tracksuit bottoms, but he ignored it, one foot on the ladder the other struggling to get through the small frame without getting splinters in it.  After a quick tug he was out.

Over one shoulder he could see a group below him, huddled up and staring up at the window he was emerging from. His blanket flew around him, the wind’s chill creeping up through the back of his shirt. Still he continued. One foot after another he lowered himself down, occasionally looking either up to the window or to the platform below. After a short while a dazed face appeared above him, looking out over the street below. From where Jean hung, he could see the bob of nervousness in his neighbour’s throat.

“Hurry the fuck up dude!” He slid the final step down onto the next platform, hurriedly moving to the next ladder and gripping it tightly. The other man, seeing that he was being left behind, nodded, disappeared for a moment—

And then appeared, legs first and outstretched, through the window. As though he were crawling backwards his lefts swung around trying to find the ladder beneath the window, one arm pushing against the brick wall, the other somehow still inside along with half of his torso and his head. The wind mussed the fabric, pushing it further up the man's leg before slapping it back down with every little step he took.

He couldn't look up. Looking up meant being a few feet away from a veiled outline of flesh, soft and very watchable. So instead Jean kept his eyes firmly to the rungs in front of his face and attempted to not slip against the slightly iced metal. He jumped the last few steps down just as the other man got to the halfway point. People below shouted "Hurry up!" over and over as though their words really made the difference.

When Jean landed to the street below he received a pat on the back from a man he didn't recognise and tugged up the blanket. The pavement was cold and wet through his socks and around him residents danced to try and avoid frostbite caused by the melting snow. The across-the-hall neighbour followed quickly, wrapping his arms around his own bare torso.

The first thing Jean noticed were nipples. Very hard nipples. Budding from the cold and peeping out just above his neighbour's  makeshift, fleshy insulation they perched on freckled skin illuminated by the faint glow of the burning building and phosphorescent street lamps. And just like the rest of him, his legs, three quarters bare, were a mix of dark hair and freckles along the bridge of his knees and ankles. Arms too. The dude was shaking his ass off in the cold, no one offering the blanket seemingly more useful around a man in an insulated jacket.

"Here." Jean threw his own over to the man. He didn't catch it, and the dark blue fabric his him square in the head, leaving his dark hair sticking up and static. Dark eyes peeked over. "You're gonna freeze your ass off if you're not careful."

The neighbour looked as though he wanted to protest, but eventually just nodded and swung the blanket around until it covered the best part of him. He lifted his foot up every so often to rub it frantically against the calf of his other leg. They all stared up at the building.

Up. Fire most definitely went upwards, the third floor glowing and the fourth starting to burn bright too. The fifth, Jean's floor, was a dusky orange, faint and obviously distant but encroaching slowly.

"My nan would be so upset if her home burnt down." The man with Jean's blanket sighed, shivering slightly. "Her doily collection's still up there."

Jean had to snort. 

"You've got to be kidding me." The man turned to him, hugging the blanket close to his chest. "Everyone’s flats are five minutes away from burning out and you're more worried about your grandmother's crocheting?"

The almost naked neighbour bit his lip, studying Jean for a moment before turning back to the building. In the distance the small crowd could hear a distant siren. "You're right, you're right it's rude..." he sighed deeply, crunching his lips together, eyes reflective. 'I just really hope her ornamental plates don't crack.' A few long moments passed. The man stared up into the slowly brightening fire, his face almost stoic before it broke a small smile, and his breath puffed short and opaque before turning to Jean and grinning. "I'm kidding."

"You're a terrible person."

The neighbour continued to grin, opening the blanket quickly before shutting it over himself again; hands almost up in the air. Jean caught a brief glimpse-- not that he was looking-- of dark skin, supple yet hardened in the cold air. It took a few seconds to pull his eyes away.

Everyone stared to the building, silently counting the seconds between the siren and the cracking of glass and the splinter of wood. The few kids scattered around were hurriedly becoming tired and irritable, their parents either attempting to settle them down or cheer them up with campfire songs and silly stories. Jean listened out of the corner of his ear, watched the neighbour he quickly realised he had only seen in brief glances.

"I haven’t seen you around much."

The neighbour snaps his head away from the building at the sound of Jean’s voice. The bottom of his hair has grown fuzzy from static, the top a slight mess. "No," he shrugs, "I only officially moved in two weeks ago and I didn’t visit much before that."

He thought for a moment. "But isn’t that flat—"

"Mrs. Bodt’s. Yeah, she’s my grandmother."

Suddenly things began to click. The brief conversations on the stairs, the shared mailbox in the lobby, excited mentions of family; they all began to fall into place.

Jean nodded before pointing at the man. "So that must mean you’re the grandson studying to be a nurse."

The neighbour smiled widely. His bare legs shuffled underneath the blanket. "That’s me. I’m assuming you’re the “lovely young man across the hall” she keeps mentioning."

Jean scoffed. "Your grandmother’s a very forgiving woman."

"Oh I don’t know," the neighbour smile grew even more, white teeth luminescent in the light, the freckles along his cheeks only making him look a whole lot kinder. He shuffled into the blanket a bit more. "I think I agree with her."

The comment brought him down a bit. Jean swallowed. "Duly noted. I’ll up the asshole act next time." He smirked at the building for a moment before his eyebrows pulled down quickly. "You didn't leave her in the flat, did you?"

A bright laugh burst across the street. The man doing a useless head-count stopped. "Oh God no," the neighbour chuckled, "she's in hospital having a hip operation. I'm acting as temporary caregiver and housewife."

"Lucky woman," Jean breathed as he eyed over the neighbour's thickly muscled shoulders as they shook with laughter.

Around the corner a spinning set of lights flashed blue and red, the siren now unbearably loud. The few people that had managed to marginally catch up on the few hours of sleep they would inevitably miss jumped awake, a baby crying, young kids screaming in excitement. They were so blissfully unaware and it made Jean's heart skip. It was only a few more moments before a fire truck peeked around the block and sped its way down the road and ground to a halt.

Within an instant the building was the centre of a war between fire and icy water, he latter slowly winning. Ladders went up, men clambering up into the windows the residents had just escaped from. A few still on the ground smiled politely, moved quickly, checking up on people and sticking to children, trying to raise their spirits in any way they could. A round of Kookaburra started, before it somehow managed to drift into the one about the Red Indians.

As the beacon of light began to die, the scene was fast becoming less and less exciting. The few people that had bothered to come out of their own homes to see for themselves what the racket was about before heading back into their own safe homes. The early morning got no lighter, but as the cold began to draw in, Jean found that the neighbour had started to close the gap between them.

Jean felt himself shiver.

"Are you cold?" The neighbour looked over, concern on his freckled face. His shoulders were exposed, the hairs raised to give him goosepimples. "You can have your blanket back if you want, I'm feeling warmer now."

Jean shrugged. "I'm fine," he lied, teeth chattering, "You keep it."

The neighbour only sighed. And then without warning the blanket wooshed against the cold air, a small torrent of wind catching the shivers and making them seem harsher. Then he was protected, trapped in an area of tranquil stillness, a warmth pressed into his right side, bare arm squished tight against his own.

Thinly clad hip against his.

"There, neither of us are cold." The neighbour's bright grin was only punctuated by the arm protecting Jean from the wind curled around his shoulder, hand holding the blanket that had been his dropping into Jean's  chest.

He could only snort, mostly unsure of how to take the gesture. "I-uh... Thanks...uh--"

"Marco," the neighbour said. "Don't worry it's the least I could do to show my thanks."

Marco's head tiled to the side, Jean letting a small smirk slip his lips. Brown eyes widen, slightly mischevious.

"Well that," he continues. He looks straight into Jean's eyes, unwavering. His eyebrow raises coyly, "and to reciprocate your terrible attempts at flirting."

 

**Author's Note:**

> Yo.  
> First oneshot y'all, although I'm happy to do more.
> 
> Tumblr: luukiead


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